


Estelle of the Broken Lands

by AnonEhouse, teaberryblue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge 2015, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, POV Alternating, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaberryblue/pseuds/teaberryblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Antoine (call me 'Tony'), Stark of Stark, is too busy being a playboy to care for the people of his kingdom. Estelle, 'just a girl from the Broken Lands', doesn't put up with bullies, even if they do wear a crown. With the help of her pet ferret, Bucky, and a man named Bearskin, she shows Tony the error of his ways.</p><p> </p><p>(Art by teaberryblue.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Estelle of the Broken Lands

**Author's Note:**

> Teaberryblue is a great artist and was a great collaborator. We had fun kicking ideas around and googling for research, some of which actually found its way into the fic. :^)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Estelle heard the boys shouting and looked up from weeding her vegetable patch to see what mischief they were up to, this time. At her feet, Bucky stopped using his metal claws to dig at a particularly tough root and looked up into her face, disapprovingly. For a ferret, Bucky had a very expressive face. "I'm just going to go _see_ ," she told him as she shook the dirt off her hoe and placed it over her shoulder. Bucky huffed a squeaky little resigned sigh, and scrabbled at the ragged hem of her skirts until she helped him climb to her other shoulder where he sniffed and looked suspiciously all around.

[](http://www.ipernity.com/doc/eclectic-house/38136752)

"I can take care of myself, Bucky," she said, torn between affection and exasperation. He didn't weigh much more than a shovel-full of dirt, but ever since she'd found him as a kit, caught in a cruel trap with his left foreleg maimed beyond saving, he'd taken on the role of her protector. With her ma gone, Estelle was grateful for the unquestioning love of the little critter. 

"HEY," she shouted when she climbed up the bank and saw the village's young layabouts throwing stones and offal at a hunched over animal so shaggy and filthy she couldn't tell what it was. "Cut that out, leave it alone!" 

"Go on, miss soft heart," Hodge sneered at her. "It's only a dirty tramp."

Estelle had to come closer to see, because her eyes weren't very good. Under a really disgusting and smelly fur cloak-- it hadn't even been properly tanned--she made out the face of a man. He probably had more topsoil on him than her whole patch and there was very little of his face visible because of the matted tangle of graying beard and straggling hair. He clutched the cloak close around his throat awkwardly, with fingernails so overgrown they twisted and curled like a ram's horn. But he had kind eyes behind wire-framed spectacles.

"He's a man," she snapped. On her shoulder Bucky growled and bristled at Hodge. She turned to see Hodge picking up a large stone. "Leave him alone!" She swung the hoe, and missed, of course, and then the pack of boys was on her, punching and kicking. The man they'd been tormenting got up onto his feet and pushed Estelle behind him. She squirmed and punched half-heartedly at him. 

He said, "You shouldn't risk yourself for me. You don't even know me."

She got free and hauled off to hit Hodge in the face. Hodge, ever the gentleman, hit back. Estelle wiped the blood from her nose and staggered back to face Hodge again. "I can do this all day!"

Bucky gave a shrill cry and leaped to bite Hodge on the seat of his trousers. Hodge screamed and danced around in a circle before Bucky let go. His friends, fickle as ever, started laughing at him.

"I think," the man in the fur said softly, "now would be a good time to leave."

"I had him on the ropes," Estelle said with a sniff. But she picked up Bucky, and turned her neck to work out the stiffness. "Got better things to do than play with stupid boys." She looked at the man and decided he was a good person, even though he smelled terrible. "Come on. I don't have much, but I can offer you a chair and a cup of fresh well water."

"My thanks," the man said with a bow that was a lot more elegant than anything Estelle had ever seen. 

"You're real polite for a bearskin," she said as she picked up her hoe and led the way back to her cottage.

 

"Odi, come on, you don't need me there." Tony huffed and settled his velvet cape around his shoulders before tilting his ruby and gold crown rakishly with his left hand. His right hand was clasping a flask of garnet red wine. "I'd rather be in my sanctum, devising new spells."

"Your name on the kingdom, Tony," Odilon said gruffly, reaching out to take the flask from Tony's hand. "Antoine, the Wizard Prince Stark of Stark, must be there on the day of petitions. It's only once a month, and you just have to listen to the first twenty. I'll handle the rest."

"You're my Regent, you handle everything, anyway." But Tony didn't try to regain the flask. "At least promise me some pretty girls. The last time it was all geezers whining about barking dogs and stray cats."

"Stray cattle and sheep-killing dogs," Odi corrected. He settled Tony's crown straight. "I took care of it. Don't I always? But you have to do something for me, Tony. The peasants are whining about our new security measures, and they won't listen to me. I'm only Regent, after all."

"What? The fences? I designed them to protect the kingdom! Do they want Hammer's goons running freely into the country to rape and pillage? I can't be everywhere with my spells, you know."

"I know," Odi said soothingly. "The barbed wire is a wonderful invention. Your father, if he were here, would be very proud of you. I'm proud of you, my boy." Odi grasped Tony by the shoulders and squeezed firmly. Tony winced but didn't complain. "Tony, they're only simple people. They don't understand. You have to take a firm hand with them, for their own good."

"Right, right." Tony nodded. "But they could include a few pretty girls in the petitioners, you know?"

"I'll see what I can do."

 

Estelle stood at the back of the line leading to the palace, scrubbing her toe in the dirt to draw pictures. She'd been turned away five months in a row along with most of the crowd, but that didn't mean she was going to give up. The mutterings of the crowd died down abruptly, so she looked up to see what had happened. There was a stirring, with everyone looking off to the right. She turned and stood on her tip-toes, hoping to see what was happening. She heard the heavy hoofbeats of a big horse, too big for a farm horse since the Prince had ordered all above pony size to be conscripted for the army. Maybe it was a knight? Knights were supposed to be noble, and charitable, according to her mother's stories, but Estelle mainly knew them as men who chased game right through the fields, and expected everyone to get out of their way. They were bullies, the same as the village lads, but you couldn't fight them with a hoe.

The horse neared, and then stopped, right in front of Estelle. She looked up past the beautifully curried and caparisoned stallion, whose bardings were of heavy velvet embroidered with the Prince's double-headed eagle, picked out with gilt. Every part of the horse's harness was polished and set with silver and even what she was pretty sure were gemstones. She could probably feed herself, Bucky, and Bearskin for a year with the cost of the bridle alone. The rider was dressed in noble's robes, and wore a circlet of gold on his shining bald head. Palace servants walked beside the horse. The rider pointed at Estelle with his crop. "That one," he said. "Send her to the front of the line."

Estelle was startled and not sure what she ought to do. Weren't you supposed to bow or something when a noble noticed you? Before she could gather her wits, the rider continued down the line. One of the servants nodded at her. "Yes, you girl. Come on now, don't keep the Prince waiting." He turned on his heel without waiting for her response, and headed back towards the palace.

"Yessir," Estelle said, hastily gathering her skirts and scrambling through the crowd to follow. Bucky stuck his head out of her apron pocket, sniffling. She pushed him back in. "Not now, Bucky!"

 

Tony lounged sulkily on his throne. Odi wouldn't let him throw his legs over the arm of the throne or order the court musicians to play something loud and fast, something he could lose himself in and not mind being so very, very bored. He had been planning to overhaul the magical carriage he and his father had built, one of the few times they'd managed to cooperate without competing and then shouting and throwing spells at each other. Never anything _bad_ , but being part octopus for a few hours or being unable to talk for a whole day... yeah, in retrospect, maybe Dad had just been trying to goad Tony into learning defensive spells. The old man had been a bit paranoid. Tony had tried to tell him it wasn't like the old days when Howard had to claw his way up to earning a kingdom and couldn't even take time out to get married until Princess Maria came with the offer of an alliance and Howard's stony heart melted at first sight. They had it good in Stark, they could relax and enjoy life.

Only then something had gone wrong when Mom and Dad had gone to a party in a normal, horse drawn carriage, not wanting to show off. And... well. It had gone wrong. And they were gone. And Tony just wasn't prepared for it. For anything. If it wasn't for Odi supporting him, Tony was pretty sure he'd have lost the kingdom. So he could do magic, big deal. He was still a scrawny kid, and there were still Hammer and Schmidt and other hungry vulture nations surrounding Stark. They'd respected Howard, but not Tony. Odi had kept them at bay, had handled all the diplomacy and court business, and urged Tony to devote himself to creating magical weapons and defenses. He owed Odi everything. 

But he was still bored, and really, this was hardly a productive use of his time. The court herald thumped his staff of office on the marble floor. "Hear ye, hear ye," he bellowed (really, Thor had an impressive set of lungs), "Antoine, the Wizard Prince Stark of Stark, will now graciously lend his noble ear to petitions. Let all speak truth, and fear naught!" Then he glanced down at the small figure standing at the edge of the doorway of the receiving chamber. In what Thor undoubtedly thought of as a whisper, he said, "That's you, little one."

Tony sat up straight, suddenly interested as the petitioner entered the chamber. His first impression was all huge, bright blue eyes even bluer than his own, and pale golden hair on top of a delicate boned frame dressed in a peasant's smock decorated with birds and beasts embroidered in a thick white thread over the plain linen. This was more like it. After a few hesitating steps, the girl- well, young woman, if Tony could judge and he was an excellent judge of young women- lifted her chin and strode boldly forward, until she reached the black line set in the marble, which was flanked by a pair of armsmen in case someone didn't know enough to keep their distance.

Then she stopped and looked confused, grabbing at her skirts in both hands and looking around. "My... my Lord Prince," she said after a few seconds. "I'm sorry. I don't know... should I kneel?"

Tony put his chin on his fist and leaned forward. "Not here, dear, there are too many witnesses." One of the guards coughed. Tony rolled his eyes and sat up straight again. "People like to bow or curtsey, but really, I never cared for it. So, what have you come here to request?" Tony really hoped it was something simple that he could handle without getting Odi or anyone else involved. "A new dress? Some jewels? I have some sapphires sitting around gathering dust in the treasury."

The woman's chin, rather a strong chin for all its fineness, lifted again. "I am no beggar, my Lord Prince. I do not need any gauds or fripperies!"

"So you don't." Tony was amused and enjoying her spirit. "Who are you and where did you learn to be so... feisty?"

"I am Estelle of the Broken Lands and nothing special at all, my Lord Prince. I have come to tell you that fencing off the common lands is wrong."

"What?" Oh, hell, Odi had warned him. Be firm and resolute. "No, you don't understand, it's for your own good. I know it's inconvenient, but we all must make sacrifices for the common good."

"We? What sacrifices do you make, Lord Prince?" Estelle was getting into her stride, and Tony was at first too fascinated by the blush of anger in her face to pay heed to her words. No one ever got angry with him. At least, not that he could tell. "You sit here on your, your, golden throne, with your crown and your velvet robes. Take that away and what are you?"

[](http://www.ipernity.com/doc/eclectic-house/38136754)

"Ruler, Mage, Swain and Patron," Tony snapped back, a little irritated by the presumption of this chit to judge him.

"I've known peasants with none of that worth ten of you!" And just then something emerged from her pocket and ran at him, growling. 

Instinctively, Tony threw a freeze spell, just a little one, and the beast fell over onto its side. 

"BUCKY! You've killed Bucky!" Estelle lunged at Tony's throat, and it took both guards to pick up the skinny girl and hold her, until she started wheezing and went limp.

Tony got up and picked up the animal, inspecting it for evil magic or poisons. It was just a ferret, albeit ingeniously fitted with a metal leg. "Your pet will recover." He shook his head as he handed the ferret to one of the guards. "Give the girl a sack of coin, and escort her to her home along with her little bodyguard."

"My Lord," one of the guards said in a disapproving tone, "she attacked you."

"Pfft. She couldn't hurt a fly." Tony made shooing motions with his hands before resuming his throne. "Do as I say. Can't blame a girl for getting overexcited in my presence. It happens." Tony grinned. "I could show you some scars."

"My Lord," the guard said in a resigned tone, "that will not be necessary."

"Oh, and don't tell Odi about this." Tony wriggled, trying to get comfortable in the seat.

"Yes, my Lord."

Tony waved as Estelle and her ferret were carried out of the reception room. He sighed. That had been fun, but now he was bored again. So bored.

 

One of the guards mounted a tall horse, and the second tossed Estelle up behind, handing her Bucky before he got on his own horse. They seemed to take this as a pleasant change of pace from their regular duty. "You're cowards and bullies!" she snapped, petting Bucky, only slightly reassured to find him breathing and twitching his whiskers the way he always did in his sleep.

"We do our duty, milady," the second guard said, making a mocking bow.

Estelle clamped her mouth shut and fumed silently, only speaking when they reached the crossroad and she had to give directions back to her village. The journey took much less time than when she had made her way to the palace, even though a kindly farmer had let her ride partway in his cart. "This is far enough," she said, when she could see the tumbled stone fields that gave her village its name and made the land too poor to support much more than lean goats and even leaner sheep. With the commons being fenced what grazing remained was out of reach.

"As you wish." The guard stopped the horse, and Estelle slid to the ground. Her legs were shaky, but she locked her knees and refused to look weak. She glared up at the guard, who grinned at her before unhooking a small pouch from his belt and tossing it to the ground. "It's only copper and silver. The Prince would have given you sapphires."

"I couldn't eat sapphires." Estelle was proud, but she wasn't stupid. You can't eat pride. She picked up the pouch and tied it to her belt without looking at it. Bucky was fully awake now, and he climbed up her shoulder to place little ferret kisses on her ear. She stood and watched the guards ride away before she turned towards her cottage. She'd have to tell Bearskin she'd failed, but at least they would be able to buy food for a while.

 

Bearskin was in the vegetable garden, doing his best to weed, but his fingernails made holding the hoe awkward. He tried, Estelle had to give him credit for that. Estelle waved at him, and then went into the cottage to take off her feast day smock and put on her everyday one. She scowled at the patches and frowned at Bucky when he climbed up and tore one of them further.

"So," Bearskin said softly. He always spoke before entering the cottage, and was such a gentleman Estelle had never been concerned about sharing her home with him. People talked, of course, but they'd talked about her living alone, too, so it didn't make much difference. "So, you did not get to petition the Prince this time, either?"

"Oh, no, it's worse than that." Estelle threw herself into a chair, without caring how it creaked. "I spoke to the Prince and told him fencing the common land was wrong."

Even under the dirt, Bearskin winced. "You said that to the Prince?"

"Well, he was sitting there, so high and mighty, and, and _joking_ and offering me dresses and jewels! Joking! While people are going hungry! There's going to be sickness, too, not just a few people. How can he not care?" Estelle fumed and kicked at the dirty rushes on the floor. "I insulted him, and Bucky tried to bite him, and, and, he did magic and I thought Bucky was dead..." Estelle sighed. "I insulted the Prince. I'm lucky he didn't take me seriously." She held up the pouch of coins. "He had his guard give me some money. And. I took it. I took charity when what I wanted was justice. I'm ashamed of myself."

Bearskin knelt on the floor next to her. "I've done far worse. Did you never wonder how I became like this?"

Estelle nodded. "Sure, I did. I figured it was your business."

"Yes, my business." Bearskin looked at his twisted claws. "My business, exactly. I was a doctor. A good doctor. But my wife and child became ill, and nothing I could do was helping them. I went a little mad. I lived in Schmidt's kingdom."

Estelle drew in a sharp breath. "I've heard stories about Schmidt."

"The stories are less than the truth. Schmidt had made a bargain with the devil. The devil marked him with his sign, and gave him powers that helped him conquer the kingdom. I thought... I could trade my life for theirs. Schmidt said that he would give me a magical healing plaster, and his only requirement was that for seven years I neither wash myself, nor cut my hair or nails, nor sleep on anything except this bearskin, which is the only cloak I am permitted to wear. If I obeyed, at the end of seven years I would owe him nothing. If I failed, then the devil would take my soul in place of Schmidt's."

"How long has it been?"

"Five years." Bearskin ran his clawed fingers over his arms, cutting into the dirt. "When I returned home, my family had already died. But I tried to console myself by thinking I would at least be able to save others. The healing plaster... it chose who to heal. Schmidt had said it would make the good patient better. He didn't say that it would kill those it decided were bad. I found out when it killed a prosperous mayor who had come to me with gout. Gout. That shouldn't kill a man. So, I had to flee my country, and wander, living like a beast. I don't know what I'll do when the seven years are up, but I'm determined not to let Schmidt free himself from his well-deserved place in hell."

Estelle thought about it. "The devil's bargains always are carefully worded."

"That's true."

"So...exactly how did your bargain with Schmidt go?"

"For the span of seven years, from this day, you shall neither wash yourself, nor cut your hair or nails, nor shall you sleep on anything except this bearskin, which shall be the only cloak you may wear. During that time, you may use the magical healing plaster, which will make the good patient better," Bearskin said. "I've repeated it to myself many times."

Estelle got down the shears she'd used for trimming sheep's hooves, back before she had to sell her few sheep. "I'm not you. Will you let me trim your nails and hair?"

Bearskin took a deep breath. "Could it be so simple?" He got up and paced for a minute, and then he sat down again. "Magical bargains bind both the magician and the one the spell is cast upon. It must be exact. Yes. Yes. Please, I would like to be a man once more."

Estelle wasn't the village barber, but then Bearskin's state was so terrible nothing she could do would make it worse. She sharpened the shears on her piece of whetstone and set to work. The nails and hair piled up on the floor quickly, where Bucky had a wonderful time playing with them. Once she got Bearskin's nails filed smooth and the main mass of beard and hair reduced to merely wildly unkempt, she switched to her sewing scissors, without worrying what knotted hair would do to the blades. She stood back once she'd finished evening it out and asked, "How does it feel?"

"Lighter," Bearskin replied. He looked at his nails, and flexed his hands. "Almost human."

"You need a good wash," Estelle said briskly. "Let's go out by the well." She picked up a bucket and a lump of rough, yellow soap. When she saw Bearskin hesitate she said, "I've washed plenty of old goats in my time, don't worry."

He laughed. "Well, if you wash my face and arms, and throw soapy water over the rest of me, that'll be more than enough."

Estelle disagreed, but it wasn't worth arguing about. They went out to the well, and Bearskin sat on a rock while Estelle scrubbed the bearskin first and left it over another big rock to drip. It still smelled like a wet bear, but at least it wasn't crawling any longer. Then she carefully washed Bearskin's face and hair and arms. "Much better," she said. She took her comb and worked it through his hair until all the knots were gone. She smiled. "You look like a villager ready for feast day," she said, exaggerating a little, but really not that much, if you thought of some of the villagers, in particular Lod, who slept with his pigs.

"Thank you," Bearskin said. He stood up and looked down into the well at his reflection. There were tears in his eyes. "My name... my name is Erskine." He turned to hold out his hand to Estelle.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Erskine," she said, taking his hand in hers. Afterwards, Estelle was never able to say which happened first: Bucky shrieked, the air turned blue, a bright, dazzling blue, and a foul, stinking wind pushed her against Erskine.

"NO!" a voice, accented like Erskine's, but harsh where his was gentle, shouted. "HOW DARE YOU? WE HAD A BARGAIN!" Estelle turned, and then pressed back against Erskine, horrified. The man... if it was a man, had a face like a flayed skull, and eyes burning alive with black hate.

Erskine pulled Estelle to one side and behind him. "I kept my word, Schmidt," he said calmly. "Even as you did. To the very letter. You can't take my soul."

"I CAN TAKE YOUR LIFE!" Schmidt raised his hands, the way the Prince had done, but what shot out was no sleeping spell, but pure hellfire, burnt black and stinking of sulfur and unnamed foul things. Erskine took the brunt of it, but there was plenty left for Estelle. She fell to the ground and horribly, felt no pain. She had seen what happened to a goat that fell into a bonfire, and only hoped her death would be quick. She could still see and hear. Bucky was crying. Erskine was somehow still on his feet, and breathing, terrible great gasps. And Schmidt was laughing.

Erskine said, in a raw, rasping voice, "It makes the bad worse." He touched Schmidt with a piece of cloth. Schmidt screamed, a high-pitched sound that went on and on until it rang hollow in Estelle's ears. Schmidt shriveled into a black toad surrounded by flames. A blood red hand reached out of the flame and closed around the toad. And then it was gone, toad and flames, leaving only a fading chuckle from the demon who'd claimed Schmidt. 

Erskine fell to his knees in front of her. "It makes the good better." Estelle would have flinched, but she couldn't move. The cloth, the magic healing plaster, touched her shoulder and she could suddenly feel. It hurt, it hurt worse than anything. She screamed, and screamed, but then she was on her feet, and... she was fine. Better than fine. She was strong. She could see across the fields. She could breathe free and full. She looked down at Erskine in wonder. He was dying, but his face was untouched, and he smiled at her.

"You are." He paused for breath. "You are good. You are what this country needs. A knight templar, sworn to protect the helpless."

"A knight? I'm just a girl."

"No. Not just a girl. A knight." Erskine tore the healing plaster. "A knight to heal the kingdom. A knight to heal Stark." He closed his eyes and stopped breathing. The cloth unraveled into threads so fine they were like a mist, and the mist enveloped Estelle. She batted at it, but couldn't make it go away. It clothed her in fine leather and padded cloth, dyed bright blue, shining red and sparkling white. Before she could finish staring down at herself another wave of sparkling mist surrounded her, but this turned into armor. She turned, awkward, but not really bothered by the weight, to stare into the well. She had armor. Finer than any she'd seen, but not frivolous show armor. This was meant for battle, and fitted her perfectly. A helmet was lying on the ground. The top was made like a miniature castle, with crenellations all around. Bucky ran to the helmet and curled up inside the crenellations as if he was a muff, with his tail waving as proudly as any ostrich plume.

Numb, Estelle picked up the helmet and put it on. She looked down at Erskine. "I will. I promise I will heal the kingdom."

 

"Look, Odi, I don't see what the problem is. Your spies say that Schmidt has disappeared and his kingdom is scurrying around like a stirred up ants' nest." Tony didn't look up from his latest project. He was close to the ultimate in spell miniaturization and containment. If it succeeded, he would have finally realized one of his father's dreams. Not the one about the philosopher's stone, although he was _that_ close to that, too. "Why should we stick our fingers in to be bitten?"

Odi sighed, the same 'you're such a child' sigh that Tony was really, really tired of hearing. "At the moment, they are divided, with Baron Zemo and Count Zola each controlling a large portion of the country's armed forces. We could take them on individually, and put down the threat once and for all. Take over, and merge their lands with ours."

"But why? Stark is self-sufficient. Schmidt's Land-- and wow, they're gonna have to get a new name, aren't they? Schmidt's Land doesn't have anything we don't, do they?" Tony was almost there. The egg was starting to glow, a faint, faint hint of color.

"They have the greatest army the world has known."

"Yeah, but that's because everyone is in the army. The army farms and cooks and decides who can marry and how many children they can have."

"It's an efficient system."

Tony huffed. The egg was definitely iridescent. "The thought of all that paperwork gives me hives." Tony glanced at Odi. "You're not thinking to do that _here_ , are you?"

"No, no, of course not, my boy." Odi seemed to finally notice the egg, which was glowing stronger every second, ripples of blue flowing over it from end to end. "What's that?" he poked at the egg.

"DON'T!" Tony yelled, but it was too late. The two of them were blown across Tony's workshop, winding up on top of Tony's favorite magical carriage. Tony grinned. "Even better than I'd expected."

"What? What _was_ that?" Odi said. "I didn't... I'm no mage."

"That's the beauty of my latest invention!" Tony got to his feet and did an impromptu dance. "That was a simple repulsion spell. The kind that, you know, you put on a cookie jar to nudge the kids' hands away."

"That?"

"Yeah! But compressed, and only needing to be touch-activated. By anyone, Odi. You don't need to be a mage to use it." Tony beamed. "See, we don't have to worry about anyone's army. They'll have, what, one or two mages somewhere near my class, but I can make as many portable spells as we need and at least, you know, our officers, will have spells at their command."

"Tony. My boy, your father would be proud." Odi put his arm around Tony's shoulders and squeezed hard. "You know," Odi said thoughtfully. "It's not enough to have a big stick. People have to see it. We'll need to put on a demonstration, invite representatives from the other countries to observe. Scare the pants off them."

"Well, sure, I can make up enough demo-spells, and it's easy enough to teach people how to use them."

Odi looked directly at Tony. "You have to give the demo, Tony."

"Come on, Odi, you know how much I hate putting on a show. I feel like a charlatan." Tony squirmed, but Odi's grip was relentless.

Odi shook Tony. "We all have to make sacrifices." Tony winced, not only from his shoulder which was rapidly growing numb, but from the reminder of how he'd spoken to that cute little peasant girl. If he expected the peasants to make sacrifices... well...

"All right, all right." 

Odi released Tony, and smiled at him. "Good, you just get to work on the spells. I'll arrange everything else. Can you be ready in three weeks?"

Tony thought a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, just about." He rubbed his arm which was now tingling with renewed life. "You don't know your own strength, Odi."

"Oh? Sorry about that, my boy." Odi grinned and then left the workshop.

 

When Tony was working, he tended not to surface until he had met his set goals, or, you know, blew up so much of his workspace that he had to stop for renovations. He'd figured out this spell, so it was safe, mostly, and just a matter of tedious repetition. Concentrate, gather the forces, direct them into the egg (which had to be magically inspected for flaws ahead of time) and then stop the process, freezing it just short of activating. Tony wasn't a by-the-book mage, so while he wrote down spells, there were aspects that depended on subtle hand gestures and facial expressions which he didn't bother writing down. I mean, how do you describe 'inquisitive eyebrows combined with elegant pinkie-finger swirl?' Words were inadequate and his instinct for magery was so sure, he didn't need any reminders. He only wrote the spells down to satisfy Odi, who had a finicky love of paperwork. Since Odi wasn't a mage, he'd never notice the spells were useless, but it kept him from nagging.

One or the other of Tony's servants would appear at regular intervals, bringing him food and drink and occasionally clean clothes and a wash basin. It wasn't that Tony forgot to take care of himself, it was just that he'd think 'let me finish up this next egg, making a nice round number' and then he'd absentmindedly start another and he couldn't stop in the middle, and then the numbers were uneven again. But when a platter of fresh rolls, sliced meat and his favorite fruit appeared, along with a bottle of wine, well, that would remind him he was hungry. His servants were very well trained, by Odi, of course, and they didn't disturb anything, just came and went, silent and efficient. A bit unnerving, if Tony had thought about it, but he was too focussed to do more than vaguely wonder if Odi had scared them with exaggerated stories of what could happen if Tony was interrupted in the middle of spell-casting. 

Tony had a pile of mattresses, only slightly singed, in one corner for when he absolutely had to sleep, and other facilities, which while not gold-plated, were certainly adequate. He kept a steady mage-light while he was awake, and this deep in the castle's underpinnings no outside light or noise made its way through the layers of stone to announce the passage of time, so when Odi showed up one day? night? to tell Tony that he had to prepare for the demonstration within the hour Tony just accepted that three weeks must have gone by. It seemed less than that, and he hadn't made as many spell-eggs as he'd anticipated, but that was all right, he'd just talk more in between using the ones he had. Tony never had a problem talking.

Odi picked up one carton of spell-eggs, and reached for another. "Whoa, not that one," Tony said, carefully picking up the small red box.

"Why? What's the difference?" Odi asked. His eyes narrowed as if he suspected Tony of playing a trick.

"The blue eggs are repulsors set to fairly harmless. Blow things around, knock people down, that sort of thing. The red are a lot more powerful. I plan to use them on boulders, maybe a hill, something spectacular."

"Huh. We'll put some knights in armor on the field, use them for that." Odi looked thoughtful. "That would be impressive."

"No! Way, way too powerful. These would rip right through the hardest armor. Even spelled armor wouldn't be proof against them." Tony held the egg carton close to his chest. "This one stays with me, Odi."

"Fine, fine. Keep your toys." Odi directed servants to pick up the other cartons. "Oh, speaking of armor, put yours on. Your armorer is waiting in the main hall."

"You really want to make a circus of this, Odi," Tony grumbled, but he headed up the stairs without further complaint. Arguing with Odi seldom got him anywhere. He was going to have a party after the demonstration, though. He'd earned it. Loud music, dancing, wine, pretty women and probably some drunken song. A prince ought to be able to party when he felt like it.

 

Tony hadn't paid much attention to where he was going as he was concentrating on not jostling the red eggs and on watching his step. His armor was great, and gorgeous, but the eye slits didn't give a wide range of vision. He was depending on Odi to steer him, and his cluster of Teutonic Knights to distract the observers from Tony's clumsiness. He was only a knight because he was Prince, not because he practiced prancing around in a hundred weight of fancy jousting armor. Field armor would have only been around forty five pounds, but Odi insisted Tony be particularly shiny today. Odi helped Tony climb up a platform and then stood back. For the first time Tony could see the jousting field. It wasn't set up with banners and lists as usual, but instead there was a platform off to one side draped in velvets of various colors, and stocked with fancy chairs filled with overdressed nobles. Tony didn't recognize them, but he recognized the coats of arms of most of the nations surrounding Stark. Even that nutter, Osborn, had sent a representative.

That, all right, that was typical overkill on Odi's part, but why was there a crowd of peasants at the other end of the field? Peasants weren't invited to demonstrations. And who the heck was the little knight in front of the crowd, dressed in red, white and blue, with a star on his chest, and mounted on... a mule? Tony turned to Odi for an explanation.

Odi shrugged. "You really ought to have emerged from your cave once in a while, Tony. The peasants have been increasingly..." Odi pursed his lips and scowled. "Increasingly unreasonable. I tried to talk with them, but after all, I'm only Regent."

"You're 'only Regent' when it suits you," Tony said, irritably. "You could have _told_ me there was a problem."

"Eh, peasants. I figure, kill two birds with one stone. Put on a demonstration, impress the visitors, show the rabble their place, things will be fine." Odi clapped Tony on his armor-clad back. 

"They're my people," Tony said. "I'm not going to hurt them."

"No, no, of course not. Blow a little wind on their feathers, remind them you're a mage, blow up a few rocks, that's all." Odi smiled. "Get on with it before they get too close and then we really will have to hurt them."

Tony looked back at the crowd. They were armed, he realized. He hadn't noticed at first because he hadn't counted hoes and mattocks, wood axes and poles as weapons. This was definitely trouble and Odi was right, if it wasn't stopped now, people would be hurt. Tony raised his arms dramatically, knowing how his armor shone, and how the power crystal set in the chest glowed like the sun. He'd better bullshit like mad.

"Is it better to be feared or respected? I say, is it too much to ask for both? With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Wizardry, the first spell to incorporate my unique repulsor magery."

Tony dug into the nearest box of blue eggs and triggered a handful, throwing them into the field far in advance of the crowd. The eggs went off together, in a wave of wind that blasted dirt into the air and forced the crowd back several steps.

"They say the best weapon is one you never have to use. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to use once. That's how Dad did it. That's how Stark does it. And it's worked out pretty well so far."

There were mutterings and shiftings from the nobles sitting on their observation stand, but they didn't seem particularly impressed. After all, Tony was a mage. Tony nodded to Odi. "And the beauty of these is that I don't even have to be there." Tony picked up a glass of wine and waved it, lifting his visor so they could see that it was, in fact, Tony in the armor. "I can be sitting at home, having a good time, while these babies, in trusted hands, will do the work for me." Tony sipped at the wine as Odi picked up a blue egg. "To peace!"

Odi threw the egg, but it landed close to the the platform, sending a cloud of dirt up around Tony and his knights. Tony coughed. "Hey, Odi, nice try, next time not here, ok?" Through the dirt, Tony could barely see Odi's face. The expression was... odd... he was grinning. And then Tony saw the red glow in Odi's hand. "HEY!" Tony opened the crystal over his chest piece, but he really, really thought Odi was joking. So he waited, instead of activating the defensive spell.

And then Odi threw the red egg at Tony. Everything seemed slowed down as Tony stared at the egg. He cast the defense sphere, too late, he knew it was too late. And then the egg hit his chest and tore and pain and blood and the defense spell did its best but it was Tony's own magic against himself. He was flung back, out of the cloud of dirt to land in front of the platform, weakly tearing at his chest, at the metal shards that used to be his armor, meant to protect him, now tearing him. Tearing him apart. He fell back, and back and tore, and ripped and he was so weak.

And then he was standing above his body. Hovering, actually. And he wasn't using a levitation spell. "Well, that... that's not good." He peered down at his body. The blood had stopped flowing, and his eyes were open, staring at nothing. "Really not good." He looked at his arms. He was dressed in his armor, but he could see through it. "Crap. I'm a spirit. This... really sucks."

Tony turned to Odi, who was waving the clouds of dirt away and shouting. 

"That WITCH! She did it!" Odi shouted, while pointing at the red, white and blue knight. "She's a demon sent from HELL! If you value your souls, destroy her!"

God damn him, Odi was a convincing bastard. Before Tony could do anything, not that he _could_ do anything, the peasants had turned on their knight, dragged him... her?? from the mule and fled the field. Odi turned to Tony's Teutonic Knights, his face set in a mask of mock grief, and... Tony just couldn't listen to this shit. He drifted off after the peasants. Fuck if he was going to let Odi win. If that knight was a witch, maybe she'd be able to hear him at least. He had to try.

 

Estelle could have fought, but she didn't have the heart for it. Her own people had turned on her, and for what? A few words shouted by one of the men who'd made the laws that kept them ground down into the dirt? She'd had a hard time convincing them to follow her in the first place. Hodge wasn't the only man who'd resented a woman rising 'above her place'. She'd heard mutterings about 'letting her play knight' until they got the Prince to listen to their demands. She'd wanted to heal her country, not tear it further apart. She'd thought that when the Prince saw how many people were desperate that he might... well, she should have known he wouldn't give in, not an inch. 

The one thing she did know was that she was no witch. She hadn't done anything to the Prince, but who would believe her? She tried shouting, but they just beat on her armor with sticks, and she was afraid Bucky would be killed. He'd had sense enough to curl up tight in the helmet, thank heaven.

The mob was like a sick animal, lurching in one direction, and then another, as they shouted what to do. Finally a man with stronger lungs than most said they should take her to the Church of the Seven Saints to purge her demon before they burned her. Estelle wanted to argue that if they really thought she was demon-possessed, then wouldn't purging it make her an innocent? But they didn't want to listen to reason. They just wanted to take out their fear and frustration on someone, and she was handy. She decided to stay quiet, and cooperate, and maybe there would be a chance to escape later. They couldn't all fit in the church, for one thing. And demon purging took hours, didn't it? They'd get bored, or frightened, or remember they had children and stock to care for. There would be fewer of them in the morning. But... there would be enough. More than enough. It wasn't fair. She'd burned once. She was angry; quietly, furiously angry. This wasn't what Erskine had meant for her, this wasn't what he'd died for. She had to do something. Something to open their eyes, even if it was too late for her. She was meant to heal Stark. 

"There! Get the priest, get him out, make him say the words!" The crowd surged up to the steps of the church. The priest, a shaggy, fat man in brown robes, came out to face them, paintbrush dripping whitewash in one hand. "What is the meaning of this? It isn't the day for services." He waved the brush around. Estelle could see he was drunk. "I'm working here!"

They pushed Estelle at him. "Purge this demon! Say the words!" The crowd started chanting, and the pressure of their hate was a hot force at her back.

"Um. Yes? All right." The priest nodded, head bobbing stupidly. "Take the demon inside." More than a dozen of the strongest men surrounded Estelle and forced her into the church. The priest looked shrewd for a moment as he gazed at her armor. "The armor will be cleansed too, as an offering to the Saints. Remove it and place it before the altar."

The men surrounded Estelle, the same men who'd helped her put on the armor before she mounted the mule they'd taken from a plow. They took it off quickly as if the touch burned them, and piled it before the altar. The priest lit candles and muttered a prayer before leading them into a far corner of the church. There was a strong smell of paint as they passed a mural depicting miracles. It was faded, but still beautiful, except where crude colors had been slopped over it. Estelle could paint better pictures in the mud, with her big toe. It was just one more insult, that she should be judged by a drunken vandal.

The priest chained her in a corner where the light came through stained glass depictions of Galactus, Namor, and the Mad Titan. They were called saints for the same reason wicked elves were called 'the Fair Folk'. People flattered those they feared. There was a bench to sit on, and the softly glowing copper-colored chains fastened immovably in the stone floor were magical, indeed. Estelle felt her strength drain until it was all she could do to sit on the bench upright. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

"Right, right," the priest said after checking the chains once more. "Now, you must all go. The saints require it. You can wait outside," he added. "Just do not enter the sanctum before dawn."

As soon as the last man left the church, the priest wandered away from Estelle. "Bothering me all the time. Man of the church shouldn't be bothered. It's not a service day." She heard the scrape of pottery and then the 'glug glug glug' as of heavy drinking, before the priest sighed. "And they'll be wanting me to say words over the fire, too, I'll wager." More glugging followed. "Well, I'm not bothering to paint anymore tonight. Have to rest up." She heard his footsteps wavering and more glugging, getting distant as he went back towards his living quarters.

Estelle let her head fall back to rest gently against the stone. "What am I to do?" She looked at the saints and added hastily, "I'm not asking you for advice." She tugged at the chains, and tried to make her hands small enough to fit, but the chains shrank and swelled to fit exactly the same no matter what she did. She sighed. 

There was a soft scrabbling. Estelle looked up. "Bucky?" Bucky eeped at her and ran to her, scrabbling at her knees. "I know, I know." Estelle felt like crying for the first time. Her only ally was a crippled ferret. She firmed up her jaw. Bucky was loyal, that was what mattered. "Bucky. Bucky, baby, can you do Momma a favor?" Bucky eeped and sat up, whiskers twitching. If only he remembered. It had been only a joke. Bucky liked to steal things she'd handled, especially her tools. Including her paintbrushes. She'd tried to teach him to bring them back. Sometimes he did. "Bucky, baby, bring Momma her paint. Bring the paint, Bucky."

Bucky ran off, and returned a moment later with a chewed candle. "No, Bucky. Paint. You know." She made a gesture, as if whitewashing the cottage. "Paint."

Bucky washed his whiskers and eeped. Then he climbed into her lap and onto her shoulder to kiss her. She sighed and petted him. "You're my good boy, Bucky. But Momma needs paint."

Bucky scampered off again. He returned with a faded velvet kneeling pad. "Paint, Bucky. Paint." Bucky dropped the kneeling pad. He curled up on it and patted it. "No, Bucky," she said firmly. "I need paint."

Bucky shook himself and ran off again. It was asking a lot of him, she knew, but Bucky was the smartest ferret she'd ever known. He was gone a long time. Finally she heard scrape... scrape... scrape... and peering off into the dimness beyond the colored light filtered through the saints, she made out a small wooden box, and the humped shape of Bucky's back behind it. She could smell paint, stronger. "Bucky, oh, yes! You can do it!" Bucky eeped and pushed until the box nudged her knee.

The box proved to be haphazardly stocked with paint of various kinds, in a few garish colors, drying in clay pots. There were also a few sad brushes. Estelle's heart leaped at the sight. "Good boy, Bucky." She gave him one pat, and then took a brush in hand. She would leave a message for her people, something to make them think. Not in words, very few peasants could read. Estelle's mother had taught her, which was just one more thing the villagers held against her. No, she'd paint them a scene. It would have to be true for the Saints to allow it, they'd think. 

She loaded up the brush, and began painting. She said aloud, "I'll paint the Prince, and show I wasn't the one who killed him. Poor Prince. He was arrogant and stupid, but he was very pretty, too. I hope they understand who the real enemy is." The red and yellow paint didn't do his armor justice, but she did her best.

 

Tony had followed, even though he soon discovered that the knight didn't respond to him any more than any of the peasants did. Even as a spirit, Tony could sense the magic suffused in the armor, and he had hopes that if the armor was removed, then the knight, witch, whatever, could hear him. But it didn't work. They stripped the knight down to her under armor padding, and he was surprised, but in the 'oh, of COURSE' way when a surprise turns out to be something you should have expected, that it was the cute peasant girl who'd had the nerve to backtalk him. What was her name? Ellie? Elaine? He glanced at the armor, at the bright star on the chest, and thought, 'No, Estelle. Estelle, the star.'

Unfortunately, taking off the armor didn't help him. Didn't help her, either. Poor girl. She meant well, and she'd tried so hard. Much harder than he had done, with his lazy reliance on Odi to handle all the tedious business of running a kingdom. Tony felt he deserved to die for that, but Stark didn't deserve a traitorous murderer as a ruler. He should have listened to the peasants. He should have listened to Estelle. He floated in front of her, and wished more than anything that he could at least help this one person.

He watched as she fought the chains and then as she talked to her pet. Tony wondered what she wanted with paint. It wouldn't free her. He listened to her, and his admiration grew. She wasn't trying to escape. She was trying to help the people who were going to kill her. And she had a gift. With poor materials, and the chains weighing down her arms, still she painted Tony, it was unmistakably him. Almost real. More real than he was right now.

He felt magic shift, felt the possibility. It was more real than he was. He reached out and felt himself drawn to the paint, wet and shining on the stone wall. It was him. It was REAL because Estelle believed it was real. He stepped away from the wall, hovering with fire levitation, and touched Estelle's arm. He could no longer see through his armor. He was solid.

[](http://www.ipernity.com/doc/eclectic-house/38136756)

She gasped. "What... what are you?"

Tony sank to his knees in front of her. If he confessed who he was, she would rightfully hate him, and worse, she would not believe him, would not believe IN him, and then he would lose his fragile grip on reality. "I am your servant, noble knight, created through your vision and faith. Sent to aid you in your hour of need."

Estelle blinked, and then held out her arms. "Free me, then."

"As you wish." The magic copper was nothing to a mage-smith. It dissolved under Tony's touch, falling to bright powder on the flagged stone floor. He saw Estelle gather strength, until to his mage eyes she was a bright beacon, and stood, burning like a pure flame, in the dim church.

"I have work to do," she said. "Will you stay with me?"

"To the end, my knight." Tony had never seen anyone so beautiful as this little peasant girl. Or so strong.

Estelle smiled softly. "Good. Help me put on my armor, and then we shall wait for dawn."

"Why wait?" Tony asked. "Why not attack now? I will fight at your side."

"Because I need a plan of attack! Rushing in won't do any good."

Tony didn't like it, but he couldn't very well go anywhere without her, so he stayed after they'd armored her up, and her pet ferret had gone to sleep in her helmet lying on the floor beside her, and he listened to her. For once he had to listen and the more he listened, the more he realized that Estelle was everything he wasn't, patient, thoughtful, considering all the people of the kingdom, without regard for her own self-interest. She should have been born to rule, and Tony should have been the one breaking his heart and hands on a field full of rocks.

"If Odilon has convinced the Prince's Teutonic Knights that you were the one to slay him, they will be your greatest challenge," he told her.

Estelle nodded, and continued painting battle plans on the wall beneath the Mad Titan. The Mad Titan enjoyed death, so battle plans would please him. Not that they wanted the Mad Titan on their side, but no sense adding an enemy. "Is that likely?"

"Oh, yes. Odilon is very convincing." Tony tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"And what of the magic... the things the Prince threw? Are there more of them? What are their weaknesses?"

"There are more," Tony confessed. "There are two types. The blue are weak, meant for show. The red will destroy anything they touch. Fortunately there are few of the red."

Estelle chewed on the end of the paintbrush, which Tony found incredibly distracting. "How many?"

"There were only six made, and one was used to kill the Prince."

"Can't Odilon have the mages make more?"

"No. He probably thinks they can, or else he would not have disposed of the Prince." Tony smiled, safely hidden behind his helmet. "That will be an unpleasant surprise for him. Prince Antoine's magics can't be duplicated by anyone else."

"Good." Estelle looked at the Mad Titan's window. His eyes were brighter. "Dawn approaches." She dropped the paintbrush and stood, picking up the helmet. "Follow my lead."

"Yes, my knight," Tony said.

 

Estelle flung open the doors of the church, with her magical servant behind her. The rays of the sun lit upon them, hopefully making haloes around their heads. She held her helmet cradled in one arm, so all could see her face. "I HAVE SURVIVED MY VIGIL!" she shouted. "I HAVE BEEN PURGED OF ALL SINS!" She hoped God would forgive the lie, it was necessary, and she would make atonement later, if all went well. If not... well, she would explain it in heaven. "I HAVE BEEN GRANTED AN ANGEL TO ASSIST ME!" She waved at the floating red and gold knight behind her. "THE SPIRIT OF PRINCE ANTOINE IS ON OUR SIDE."

The spirit stepped to one side of Estelle and cast a transportation spell bringing a pair of war horses, fully caparisoned, to stand before the church. It was flashy, and the horses cooperated by whinnying and prancing. He helped Estelle mount a beautiful white mare and then floated to sit astride a bright chestnut stallion. He materialized a sword out of nothing, and swung it through the air, leaving a Catherine wheel of sparks in its wake. "FOR GOD AND STARK," he shouted and his horse reared. And then he kicked it into a run, parting the crowd and heading back towards the castle.

Estelle cursed under her breath, slammed her helmet on, and kicked her mare into following. "WE HAD A PLAN!"

"OOPS," the spirit said. He slowed his horse to a fast walk. 

Estelle waved at the crowd. "COME! FOLLOW ME!" She held her breath for a moment as the crowd shifted, and then suddenly, like the first rock loosening from a bursting dam, a man strode out of the crowd.

"I FOLLOW!" he roared, and the crowd was in motion, again, grabbing up the torches they'd meant to burn her with, and the farm implements that she really didn't like to think they'd meant to use on her.

"SEND MESSENGERS. WE MEET AT THE CASTLE!" Estelle watched a moment to see swift-footed lads and lassies break away from the crowd. They would spread the word.

 

Estelle had never ridden a warhorse. To be honest, the closest she'd come was sitting on the plodding plow-mule the previous day. If it wasn't for the armor, she'd have preferred to walk. The mare was even taller than the mule, and the ground looked a long way off. Fortunately, the mare seemed content to stay at the stallion's side, matching pace with him. She turned her mind firmly away from the thought of falling off the horse, and spoke to the spirit. "Do you understand why we're doing this?" She felt sweat running down her face, and took off the helmet again. It was a nuisance.

The spirit replied, "I am your servant. I do as you require. I don't need to understand why."

Estelle shook her head. "Well, I need you to understand. We're not fighting for the fun of it. Look around you. Look at the people. Look at the fields."

The red helmet of the spirit turned. "I see the people. I see the fields."

"You're not trying very hard."

"The people are ill-dressed, and thin. The fields are... rocky and barren," the spirit said, slowly, as if reluctantly.

"Exactly. The peasants have always been pushed onto the poorest of Stark's land, but at least, if we worked hard and the weather was good, few starved. We grazed our sheep and goats on the commons when our own fields were chewed bare. We plowed our fields with horses bred to be as sturdy and thrifty as ourselves. It was hard, but mostly, we survived."

The helmet turned again, surveying the fields. "I see no horses."

"No, and you won't. Not here. The Prince had every healthy horse above fourteen hands high taken for the army. No one's seen anything like this beauty in a year." Estelle patted her horse on the neck. "Not unless a knight was riding her through the fields in a hunt. I've seen husband and wife plowing the fields, her pulling and him pushing. A few mules were left to us, though. Mules aren't stylish enough for the Prince's army."

"That makes no sense. The Prince's army has plenty of warhorses, bred and trained for the task."

Estelle shrugged. "It made no sense fencing off the commons, at first. But then cattle were brought in to graze there. Cattle branded with the crown."

The spirit made a soft noise she would have taken for a curse, if she didn't know better. "Sacrifices. Sacrifices to fill the coffers."

"We didn't want to believe it. Not for a long time. Why should the Prince starve us? He already had so much, why would he bother to squeeze pennies from us? We were used to being ignored and left to fend for ourselves, but this... this was senseless cruelty."

"It wasn't the Prince's doing," the spirit protested, but without much energy. "I'm sure he didn't know what was done in his name."

"He was the Prince. He _should_ have known. Instead of playing the fool, he should have cared for his lands, for his people. He was Stark, of Stark." Estelle had very little sympathy for the Prince. Yes, she could believe that he hadn't meant to do any harm, but he had all the power to do good, and hadn't. She let them ride on in relative silence for a few miles, and then she spoke again. "Do you understand now, why we fight?"

"Yes. You were betrayed."

"We've been bullied all our lives. We have to take a stand. You start running, they'll never let you stop. You stand up, push back. Can't keep you down forever, right?"

"Not you," the spirit said. "I can't imagine anyone keeping you down."

Estelle felt her cheeks warming at flattery from a spirit, from a creation of her own imagination. It was silly. But it felt good. "Right. So we fight because someone's got to stand up and show what's wrong with Stark. And we'll keep fighting until things are right."

"Or until you're all dead."

Estelle tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Could be. But at least we won't go quietly."

 

Tony had a lot to think about, and little of it was pleasant. Despite Estelle's natural tactical brilliance and determination, the fact was that the situation was hopeless. Her ragtag 'army' had no armor, no training, pathetic weapons, and were overall ...well, scrawny. They were up against whatever portion of Stark's army was stationed near the castle- Tony hadn't ever bothered to keep track, so he had no idea- even if it was just the palace guard and Tony's own cadre of Teutonic Knights, they were outmatched. And then there were the spell-eggs, and Odi's pet mages. Tony hadn't much respect for them, but even third-raters capable of distraction spells could make a big difference.

He had all his power in this form, but Tony could only be in one place at a time. People were going to die. People who he should have protected. His people. And Estelle. She was the leader, and Odi would direct all his efforts against her. Tony had always had everything he wanted, just by holding out his hand, and now what he wanted, he couldn't see any way of getting. He wanted Estelle. He couldn't have her. He wasn't imagining that there was any chance he'd have her- his 'life' was an illusion, and once his purpose was fulfilled Estelle would stop believing in him, and he'd be gone. Spirit, ghost, untouchable, invisible, and silent, entirely and forever. It was what he deserved. Less than he deserved, really. But Estelle deserved more. She deserved to live, and to be happy.

On their horses, Tony and Estelle could see farther than the peasants, so they saw the blockade across the road first. It was only a few wagons blocking either side of the road, with Tony's Teutonic Knight cadre filling the gap. In front of them Odi was sitting on the calmest warhorse Tony owned, a huge black beast with great white feathers on all four feet. The blue box balanced across the horse's wide withers was undoubtedly the reason Odi had chosen Bruce instead of a more stylish mount. Tony didn't see the small red box. He hoped that Odi had squandered the red eggs on impressing the representatives by blowing up a few hills before he discovered they couldn't be replicated.

Tony wanted to send his horse at Odi. Wanted to get his armored hands around Odi's throat. Odi hadn't brought out the army, hadn't even bothered to put on armor, to show how little he feared the peasants. Tony wondered if the edict Odi had him sign so many years ago forbidding the peasants the use of bows had been in anticipation of this day. He wouldn't put it past Odi to have planned everything since Tony was a whining, spoilt babe. He wouldn't... he wouldn't put it past Odi to have arranged the 'accident' that killed the King and Queen, and left Tony a perpetual man-child, putty in Odi's strong hands. Unconsciously, he pressed his heels to his horse's sides, and the stallion surged forward.

"No," Estelle said, quietly, but firmly. "We will parley first."

Tony held his horse, but not his tongue. "Odilon can't be trusted."

"No, but Prince Antoine's knights are sworn to obey the laws of chivalry." There was a certain grimness in her voice. "It doesn't stop them from trampling crops, but they have to treat a fellow knight with respect, or lose respect for themselves."

"They will never go against Odilon."

"They might. And it would save lives if they do. It's worth the chance." Estelle nudged her mare into a slow walk, while gesturing at her people to stay where they were.

"I'm not staying behind," Tony said, and loosened his rein slightly. His stallion pranced, unwilling to let the mare lead, but after a few dance steps, he fell in side by side with her. Tony's knee almost brushed against Estelle's.

"I'm not asking you to. I could use the company." Their horses walked steadily on. Behind him, Tony heard the crowd creeping forward. He hadn't expected discipline from rabble. Just as well, they could at least be a distraction. Untrained soldiers were unpredictable. His Teutonic knights would be wary.

Estelle stopped within parley range. He wasn't sure how she knew it. Instinct, perhaps. It was uncomfortably close, Tony thought, but then, the blue eggs would do little more than frighten. He kept a firm grip on his reins, just in case Odi intended to startle their horses into bolting.

"I call for Parley," Estelle said in ringing tones. She held up her star-centered shield. "Let us avoid bloodshed."

Odi smiled at her. "A suit of armor doesn't make you a knight, little girl."

Estelle's voice didn't waver. "I was chosen to heal Stark by forces beyond those of your rules of chivalry."

"Oh? Heal it of what? This infestation of rabble?" Odi's grin widened. "Return to your dung-heaps and be grateful that I am a forgiving lord. The penalty for treason is DEATH!"

"And so it should be," Estelle replied. "But we both know it was not I who slew the Prince! Look you, his spirit stands beside me, _against_ you!"

Tony saw a ripple of uneasy motion among his knights. At Odi's right hand side, Tony's champion, Rhodey, the Black Knight, looked from Estelle to Tony. Behind the eye slits in his helmet, his dark eyes flickered from sternness to consideration.

Odi laughed. "You are a witch. You conjured up a phantom to bolster your claims, that's all that is. A trick of light and shadow."

Tony growled and set his horse into a half-rear, barely holding himself back from the attack. "I am real!" he said.

"Prince Antoine is DEAD!" Odi snapped.

"Yes!" Tony shouted. "And you killed me!" He spun his sword, red and gold flames spitting like dragon fire around him. "You are the traitor, Odi!" He saw Odi's eyes widen, as he realized the truth.

"NO!" Odi shouted. "You are dead!" He opened the blue box. And took from it a red egg. "AND YOU WILL BE AGAIN! YOU AND THAT BITCH!" He threw the egg at Estelle and Tony.

Tony leaped from his horse, throwing all his magic into flight, into speed, to meet the egg ahead of Estelle. There was no time for defense spells, no time to think, no way out. The egg smashed against his armor, and he fought to stay in solid form, against his instinct to fade back safely into the spirit world. The blast would pass through his spirit, would kill Estelle. No. He would not allow it. He stayed solid, and crashed to the dust of the road taking the force into himself.

It hurt like before, but this time he couldn't flee as a spirit. He was locked into this dying body. Worth it, though, he thought, as Estelle half fell off her mare and ran to his side. "No!" she shouted, and pulled off his helmet. 

Tony smiled up at her, and coughed around the blood welling up in his throat.

"The Prince!" Tony heard Rhodey shout, and then there was a _wheep_ of fine steel, and a thud. Tony turned his head and saw Odi's head, bloody and quite, quite, unattached to the rest of him, lying in the dirt. Good old Rhodey. There was a lot of shouting and confusion, but Tony turned his attention back to Estelle, wanting to see her blue, blue eyes, and hoping perhaps to see that she thought well of him in his last moments.

Estelle's eyes were shining with tears. "You're real," she said. "You're really the Prince."

Rhodey was shouting that the war was over, and calling for everyone to lay down their arms.

Tony summoned up strength from somewhere, and spoke. "Sorry. I want... I want you to rule Stark." It was the best decision he'd ever made. "Rhodey. Witness."

Rhodey stood at Tony's other side, across from Estelle. He took off his helmet. His eyes were shining, too. "I hear and witness, my Prince."

"No." Estelle shook her head. "What would I do with a kingdom?"

"You'd do. Better... than me," Tony said before he ran out of breath. Estelle's eyes were so blue. So very beautiful.

"NO," Estelle said firmly. "I wasn't meant to rule Stark. I was meant to _heal_ Stark." Her eyes widened. "Heal Stark." She reached into the gorget of her armor and tore loose a piece of under-tunic. "Make the good better," she said, and pressed the cloth to Tony's chest. "Please, Erskine, help me."

Estelle's armor and under-armor melted away, leaving her in a plain, much-patched, smock. Bucky eeped in astonishment as the helmet vanished, and then ran to climb onto her shoulder. "HELP ME!" Estelle demanded, ignoring the ferret's eeping.

It hurt. It really, really hurt. Tony arched up from the dirt, swallowing back screams until he fell back, exhausted. His armor was still torn and ragged, but underneath he was whole. He stared up at Estelle in astonishment. Estelle grinned at him, through tears. "Thank you, Erskine," she whispered. She held out her hand to Tony.

He stood, with Estelle at his side. For a long moment there was silence, and then Rhodey, and the Teutonic Knights, knelt. "The Prince lives! Long live the Prince!" There was a pause, and then the crowd of peasants went down on their knees as well. "LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"

Tony turned to face the peasants, holding Estelle's hand to bring her with him. They were afraid, but they were his people, and deep down, they were loyal. He smiled at them. "I am your Prince, but I need an advisor." He looked at Estelle. "Will you be willing to serve Stark? To heal the wounds? To protect my people even from me?"

Estelle fidgeted and tugged at his hand. She was still strong, Tony could feel it. "I... I'm just a girl from the Broken Lands."

"I think that's just what Stark needs. Someone who knows what the people really need." Tony looked hopefully into her eyes.

Estelle blushed and pulled her hand free to hide her face. "Oh. All right. So long as I don't have to kneel!"

Tony grinned. "Oh, but I'm afraid you must kneel." He materialized his sword. "How else may I dub thee a true knight of the realm?"

"Um. Do I have to?" Estelle looked around nervously.

Rhodey grinned at her. "Yeah, it's part of the job. Go ahead, it's fine."

Estelle knelt, back straight and eyes locked on Tony's. She picked Bucky off her shoulder and held him, squirming, between her hands. "All right, then, get it over with."

Tony smiled. "I love the way you cut ceremonies down to the point."

Estelle huffed. "Come on, my knees hurt."

Tony brought the sword down slowly to tap against her right shoulder. "I dub thee Sir Stark."

"No, no, you don't," Estelle protested. "That makes it sound like I'm your wife."

Tony paused, with the sword in mid-air. "Fine, what's your last name?"

"America."

"Great." Tony brought the sword up and over to tap on her left shoulder. "I dub thee Sir Amer..."

"No," Estelle interrupted again. "Sir is from 'sire' and that means 'father'! I'm not a man."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Look, I want to make you the captain of my guard, so can I dub thee Captain?"

Estelle paused and then nodded. "Yes, that's all right."

"Wonderful." Tony tapped her lightly on the head with the sword. "I dub thee Captain America, premier knight of the realm, with all the responsibilities and privileges thereunto pertaining. You may now rise and kiss your liege."

Estelle got up and looked at Tony. "Kiss?"

"Well, usually it's my hand, but I wouldn't mind ..." Tony shut up as Estelle snatched up his hand and kissed the knuckles.

The crowd rose to its feet and cheered. 

Tony put his arm around Estelle's shoulders. "You know, it's a shame you lost your armor. I'll make you a new set. How about inlaid with gold and sapphires?"

"I've told you, I don't want jewelry." But Estelle didn't shrug Tony's arm off.

Tony took her hand and fiddled with her fingers. "Not even maybe one ring?"

Estelle's blush deepened. "Maybe... one ring... after you've revoked all those laws about fences and everything."

"You drive a hard bargain." Tony wrapped an arm around Estelle's waist, and levitated both of them high enough so the whole crowd could see them. Bucky eeped indignantly, and Estelle made a noise, half startled, and half excited. Tony shouted, "The commons will be freed! All seized properties will be either returned or paid for. And the crown cattle will be given to the villages."

That got another enthusiastic shout. Tony turned to Estelle. He said softly, "I don't do anything half as well as I do when I'm at your side."

Estelle smiled. "We'll see." 

Tony kissed her.

And Bucky bit him.

**Author's Note:**

> Along with hunks of plot from MCU Iron Man and Captain America: The First Avenger this combines the story of Joan of Arc, a story about a boy who painted creatures that came to life and protected him from demons (I knew a Chinese version, Tea knew another one), the Teutonic Knights slaughtering the Knights Templar (Tea thought of this as a medieval version of Steve fighting the Nazis & Hydra) & the fairy tale of Bearskin, which I thought of and my punny heart rejoiced when I realized Erskine would fit in perfectly.
> 
> And- Odilon is derived from the Germanic element odal meaning "fatherland" or aud meaning "wealth, fortune". Brooklyn, the borough of New York City, was originally derived from the Dutch 'Breukelen' also spelled 'Breuckelen', meaning "broken land". 
> 
> And- in Iron Man 1, there is a double headed black spreadeagle as the family arms of Stark, painted inside Tony's jet (you can see it when he's at the table with Rhodey). And I found a Teutonic knight's shield with a double-headed black spread eagle, which was fun. Sometimes it all comes together.


End file.
